Was It Wrong for Krishna to Break His Word? The Gita’s Hidden Lesson

“यदा यदा हि धर्मस्य ग्लानिर्भवति भारत।

अभ्युत्थानम् अधर्मस्य तदात्मानं सृजाम्यहम्॥”

— Bhagavad Gita 4.7

When Krishna vowed not to pick up weapons during the Kurukshetra war, it seemed like the Supreme had set a boundary for Himself. Yet, in the heat of the battle, He lifted a chariot wheel to strike down Bhishma, shattering His own promise. Was this a divine contradiction? Or was there a deeper lesson hiding behind this act?

In the Bhagavad Gita, Krishna does not present Himself as a mere preacher of morality but as the embodiment of Dharma itself. His actions often go beyond black-and-white morality, forcing us to rethink our definitions of truth, promise, and righteousness. Breaking His word was not an impulsive act but a revelation of a principle that human ethics often cannot hold: Dharma is higher than personal commitments when the survival of righteousness itself is at stake.

So, was Krishna wrong?

A promise, in human ethics, is sacred. But in the battlefield of Kurukshetra, Krishna demonstrated that the preservation of Dharma outweighed personal vows. His initial promise was made as a non-combatant to maintain neutrality. Yet, when Bhishma’s unstoppable assault threatened Arjuna and the very balance of the war, upholding that promise meant allowing Adharma to win. Krishna’s act revealed that when personal commitments clash with universal Dharma, the latter must prevail. This aligns with the Gita’s broader teaching: to act not out of attachment to one’s own words or image but for the greater good of cosmic order.

Dharma, as revealed in the Mahabharata, is not rigid. It changes with context, time, and necessity. Krishna breaking His word underscores this fluidity. By lifting the chariot wheel, He teaches that rules are not unbreakable shackles; they are guiding principles. In extraordinary situations where the survival of righteousness itself is in jeopardy, these principles can be bent. This is why the Mahabharata often calls Dharma “subtle” (सूक्ष्म). It cannot always be captured in fixed definitions or static codes.

Krishna’s actions cannot be confined to the moral framework of ordinary beings. He explicitly tells Arjuna in the Gita that He is beyond karmic consequences: “न मे कर्मफले स्पृहा” (I have no desire for the fruits of action). By breaking His word, Krishna demonstrates His sovereignty over man-made constructs like promises. He does not break His vow for personal gain or out of weakness but as an expression of His cosmic role as the sustainer of Dharma. Thus, judging His act by human standards misses the essence of His divine purpose.

Why did Krishna lift a broken chariot wheel instead of His Sudarshana Chakra? This act is rich in symbolism. The chariot wheel represents the turning of time and the cycles of cosmic order. By raising it, Krishna embodies Time (Kala), which breaks promises, destroys egos, and reshapes destinies. He is no longer the charioteer bound by an agreement but Time itself, acting beyond all obligations. This gesture was meant to awaken not just Bhishma but all of humanity to the terrifying yet liberating truth: Dharma is timeless and sometimes ruthless

Humans often cling to their word because it defines their reputation. Krishna, by breaking His promise, detaches Himself from the need to appear “consistent” or “honorable” by societal standards. He demonstrates that righteousness is not about protecting one’s image but about fulfilling the higher purpose. This is a profound lesson for seekers: spiritual growth requires letting go of the ego-driven attachment to how others perceive our integrity.


The episode is also a call for humans to reconsider what we prioritize. Promises, laws, and codes exist to protect Dharma, not to suffocate it. When these formalities hinder the very purpose they were meant to serve, they must be transcended. Krishna’s act was not a rejection of morality but an elevation of morality to its ultimate goal: the survival of righteousness.

In the battlefield of life, as in Kurukshetra, circumstances are rarely ideal. The Gita repeatedly emphasizes yoga — skillful, conscious action. Krishna’s breaking of His vow is a living demonstration of this yoga: the ability to adapt and act decisively, even when it defies conventional expectations. Dharma is not about rigid adherence but about skillful alignment with the divine will in every unique moment.

So, was it wrong for Krishna to break His word? If we view it through ordinary morality, perhaps yes. But Krishna’s life invites us to look beyond such narrow frames. In lifting that wheel, He taught that the heart of Dharma beats louder than the sound of personal promises.

The Gita’s hidden lesson is clear: righteousness is not about blind consistency but about conscious alignment with the greater good. Sometimes, preserving Dharma means shattering the very rules you once vowed to keep.

As we reflect on this, we are left with a question that echoes far beyond the battlefield of Kurukshetra: When life confronts us with choices between personal comfort, social expectations, and universal good, will we have the courage to do what Krishna did — to act beyond ourselves